In Your Arms
by Skylark016
Summary: Sam is overwhelmed after the wall in his head comes crashing down. After pretending to be fine, he eventually acknowledges the truth and seeks comfort in the one place he's always been able to call home. His brother.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters

Author's Note: I apologize for those of you who are waiting for other stories to be updated, unfortunately my brain likes to hop around, but I promise that I'm not going to leave any story unfinished. So, with that being said, here is a new story and I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

Sam laid in the aged bed, staring up at the dark ceiling absently.

He knew that he should be getting some rest. After all, it wasn't like they were holed up in some dingy hotel room in uncomfortable beds. Quite the opposite, they were laying low at Bobby's, and Bobby's beds were always comfortable and good for a decent night's rest.

But not tonight.

Sam Winchester had no intention whatsoever of falling asleep tonight.

He sighed and tucked his hand under his head.

Dean was in the room next door. Bobby down the hall.

He could hear the occasional rustle of sheets as Dean moved, as well as the less-than-random snore from the room down the hall. He grinned to himself and just laid there, listening.

Of course, the noises wouldn't be as loud and distinguished if their bedroom doors had been shut.

Sam pursed his lips. He knew why they'd kept theirs pried open. They were worried about him, and rightly so. After Cas had torn away the wall in his mind, no one really knew what to expect.

So, since they were Winchesters after all, they expected the worst. Because when had they ever gotten anything better?

Sam filled his lungs with air and slowly let it out. Perhaps not _knowing_ what would happen to him was the worst part of this ordeal. It's not like they had books written on spending time in hell with Lucifer and coming back and being soulless, then _re-_ gaining his soul- he huffed a laugh at how ridiculous it all sounded in his mind.

So no, he knew that he wouldn't be getting any sleep. Knew he didn't _want_ to sleep. Each time his eyes tried to close, he'd pry them open with a renewed determination to _not_ sleep.

Sam could remember those dark nights years ago when Dean had returned from hell. Could remember hearing his brother's breath hitch in his sleep, his body rigid. Sam could distinctly feel how utterly helpless he had been in that situation. Still was, although Dean wouldn't admit it, he would still get the occasional nightmare. Who wouldn't? He'd been to hell, literally. That's not just something that you shrug off.

But Sam's time in hell had been different. He was scared of the memories that would sprout up if he dared to close his eyes long enough. He knew he'd have to fall asleep eventually, but he would stubbornly keep himself awake until the time when he was so utterly exhausted that his mind wouldn't have the energy to conjure up hell's experience.

The bottom line was, he wasn't going to worry Dean, not if he could help it.

Sam shook his head, wondering if he'd wake anyone up if he got up to get a glass of water and possibly a book from downstairs to pass the time.

He bit his lip, tempted by the idea. But he, of all people, knew how rickety and creaky Bobby's staircase was. Especially when you wanted to sneak down them. Dean would be up before he reached the third step down, for sure.

The youngest Winchester stretched his neck and contemplated how he would spend the next few hours.

He couldn't realistically be up until at least fifteen minutes after Bobby. Otherwise they'd be suspicious and share worried glances behind his back all morning. And he'd be stuck pretending that he didn't notice them.

He pursed his lips and sat up carefully, making sure that the springs didn't make too much noise. He chewed on his bottom lip. His options were slim. All of his books, laptop, notebooks, everything except his phone was downstairs.

He glanced at his phone that he had needed to plug in to charge. He didn't have any games or anything on it. He sighed once again and pushed the idea away, it's not like he had anyone to call anyways.

He laid back down in defeat, residing himself to being alone with his thoughts all night long.

'At least they're _my_ thoughts,' he told himself.

Although his time as Lucifer's vessel had been brief, Sam still shuddered as he remember their time together in his brain. All of Lucifer's thoughts poking at him constantly, all of Sam's thoughts being picked apart piece by piece.

He remembered feeling his finger snap, a surge of energy and power rippling through him, as he watched, helpless, as Bobby's neck snapped. His lifeless body hitting the ground with a thud. Could recall the nausea he felt when Cas' vessel imploded.

Sam's breathing quickened as he remembered feeling his fist slam into Dean's face, wet and sticky with his brother's blood. Over, and over, and over.

Sam sat up in bed and gulped, gripping his stomach. The memories making him nauseous.

'And those weren't even from hell,' a little voice whispered in the back of his mind.

He stood up, and walked over to the window. He shoved it open and stuck his head out, closing his eyes as he breathed in the fresh air. Letting the shock of the cold wipe away all of his prior thoughts.

For Dean, what had happened in that cemetery had occurred ages ago. And Sam knew that if he brought it up to his brother Dean would simply shrug and state that it hadn't been him doing it, Sam had gotten the reigns back, and everything had turned out okay in the end.

Sam pinched his nose and withdrew back inside the bedroom.

He didn't care if he hadn't 'technically' been the one to smash his older brother's face in. The fact that he could feel himself doing it, could see it but not stop it, was enough to cause nightmares by itself.

And Bobby- Sam shuddered.

He closed the window and plopped down at the edge of his bed, cradling his head in his hands.

He sat that way until a small sliver of sunlight was peering into through the window and he could hear Bobby downstairs in the kitchen.

Sam was up and changing before he'd really decided what he wanted to do, only having one clear thought stuck in his mind. He needed out. He needed to get out _now._

He needed to get out of the stuffy bedroom, out of the house, out from scrutinizing eyes, just out. Sam needed time to think and process and...well, he honestly didn't know what else beyond that.

He slipped on his running shoes and some comfortable clothes and walked downstairs.

"Where you headed?" Bobby asked, as soon as Sam walked into the kitchen. He was already nursing a big cup of coffee.

"I'm going for a run," Sam replied, feeling slightly uneasy under the older hunter's gaze.

"Any particular reason?" Bobby asked, a silent question of 'are you okay?' hidden in the words.

Sam smiled, hoping that it looked more convincing than it felt, "Yeah, just need some fresh air."

Bobby nodded, sensing there was more behind the reason, but letting it go nonetheless.

"Be careful," he told Sam gruffly.

Sam's lips quirked upwards and he nodded before walking outside.

The temperature hadn't warmed up much since he'd opened his window, and he shivered at the first gust of wind despite his sweat-shirt and sweatpants. But Sam knew that once he actually starting running he'd be okay, or at least he hoped so.

He stepped off the porch and started out with a jog, not bothering to stretch first. He made it to the end of Bobby's driveway and paused, not sure of which direction he wanted to take. Going right would bring him to the small town about fifteen miles out, whereas going left would just give him empty road.

He veered left and settled into an easy rhythm. Pumping his arms back and forth and breathing in the harsh cold air that felt like it was tearing the back of his throat.

He cranked up the pace, relishing the way his legs burned and his heart raced.

 _"It's okay, it's okay Sammy. I'm here. I'm here," Dean said, the words obviously painful to say because of his busted lower lip._

 _Sam felt his arm stretch back against his will._

Sam stopped, chest heaving from both exertion and the vividness of the memory.

 _His knuckles slammed into the side of Dean's face. Sam was kicking, punching, yelling at Lucifer to stop. When that didn't work Sam started praying, praying that God would somehow let Dean hear his voice._

 _He screamed at Dean to leave! Run away! Can't you see that Lucifer will **kill**_ _you?!_

Sam's knees gave way beneath him and he painfully hit the asphalt.

"Where's Sam?" the words leapt from Dean's mouth as soon as he noticed Sam's absence from the kitchen table.

"Went for a run," Bobby replied, still leaning against the counter.

Dean scoffed, "A run? What the hell does that kid want to run for?"

The older hunter just shrugged and sipped his coffee.

"Well, did he say anything?" he demanded when it looked like Bobby had no more information to offer him.

Bobby sighed, knowing that he should have expected Dean to overreact. With everything that had happened, he couldn't blame him.

"He just came down and told me he wanted to go for a run. I couldn't find anything wrong with that."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Yeah it's not like hell isn't crashing through his brain right now or anything," he muttered.

"Dean-"

"I'm going after him," Dean declared, more to himself than to Bobby. He stepped towards the hallway only to find that Bobby had stepped in his path.

"Now wait just a minute, ya idjit," Bobby stated, "Now I know you're scared for Sam. I am too, but constantly being on your brother's back isn't going to help anyone. Give him space Dean."

"Space? Remember the last time we were here and I 'gave him space', Bobby?"

Bobby frowned at the memory.

It had been after the shocking death of the boys' father. Sam had apparently checked himself out of the hospital early, without any regards to what the doctors told him. He hadn't told anyone, even Bobby. Just acted as if his injuries were minor and took care of his brother.

It was only when Sam had gotten injured on some hunt and had needed Dean to patch him up that the truth had come tumbling out.

"You've gotta trust him, son," Bobby said in a softer tone, "Ya can't help him if he refuses to accept that he needs help in the firs' place."

Dean glared, still not happy with the thought of Sammy being alone, but acknowledging Bobby's point.

"Fine," he hissed, plopping down at the table, "But if Sasquatch isn't back in twenty minutes, I'm going after him."

'I wouldn't expect any less,' Bobby thought, nodding at the older brother's promise, "Well, you know where to find me if ya need anything," Bobby told him, shuffling off to his desk.

Dean nodded absently, his eyes staring at the clock above Bobby's sink.

He knew Sam needed space, but he couldn't help feeling overprotective. Whatever Cas, just thinking of that angel's name made his vision turn red at the edges, had done to his brother was serious. Heck, it had caused the kid to practically be in a coma for a good three days. So yes, to say he was concerned for his brother was an understatement.

He didn't care that Sam had repeatedly told him that he was fine either.

Sam's record of hiding injuries and claiming to be alright dated back to when they were just kids.

So no, until Dean was positive that Sammy was indeed 'fine' he was gonna mother-hen the living daylights out of his brother. Because Sam was still his responsibility, still his job. And he wasn't going to be persuaded to stop anytime soon.

* * *

*Any good? I don't quite know exactly where I'm headed with this story, but be prepared for lots of brotherly feels and whatnot in the chapters to come. I know most stories dealing with Sam's cage memories often don't bring in Swan Song, but I feel like with someone as caring as Sam is, those memories would not be easily forgotten. Especially since he didn't really have any time to adjust before locking himself with Lucifer and Micheal. So really, if you think about it, his last memories of earth, while in the Cage, would have probably been torture for him by themselves since he would think that Bobby and Cas were still dead and Dean was all alone... I don't know, food for thought I suppose. **Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, and please review if you have time. Any and all feedback is always encouraging!** Thanks again! :)*


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters/settings

Author's Note: I am so sorry to all of you who have been patiently waiting for me to update this story, I wish I could promise that it'll be better in the future, but I can promise that I will not leave this story unfinished. Thank you so much to those of you who've reviewed and/or pmed me, I love reading what you guys have to say! I played around with the style for this next chapter so I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Dean managed to survive twenty minutes before he jumped from the kitchen chair and grabbed his jacket and keys, slipping his phone into his pocket out of habit.

"Go easy on him, Dean," Bobby's voice drifted from the living room, having heard the older brother's movements.

Dean rolled his eyes and stepped outside. He wasn't looking for a fight with his brother, far from it. But he would be damned if Sam managed to somehow get himself into an even bigger mess than he already was in.

The older brother slid inside of the impala, feeling some of the tension in his body evaporate as the car purred to life beneath his fingertips. He glided to the edged of Bobby's driveway and paused, thinking. 'If I were Sam and I wanted to be alone...' he turned left and drove slowly, scanning for any signs as to his brother's whereabouts.

...

"Stop," Sam begged, crashing to his knees. He pressed his hands over his ears, as if that would force the memories away. His chest heaved and a cold sweat broke out across his body.

 _"Go ahead, scream Sammy-boy," Lucifer purred, his breath tickling Sam's ear, "There's no one left to hear you."_

Sam panted as he scrunched his eyes shut. He shivered as a breeze ran through his lanky frame.

 _"They're dead Sam, all of them. Because of **you**_ **.** "

"Stop, stop-"

 _"Don't you think Dean would've found a way to save you by now? Or maybe he's actually happy now that his burden of a brother is gone-"_

...

"Pick up your phone, Sam," Dean muttered, slamming the wheel and cursing when it once again went to voicemail. 'Hey this is Sam Winchester, please leave a message after the tone.' He tossed his phone in the passenger seat and wiped a hand down his face, "Come on, Sam."

He started drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, a nervous tick that he'd never been able to outgrow. Remembering a time when his father would place his calloused hands over his in order to stop his fingers from moving, stating that the noise was driving him up the walls.

His eyes zoned in on a prone form on the shoulder of the road. Dean would recognize that messy mop of hair anywhere.

Dean maneuvered the car to the shoulder and shut the engine off, waiting for Sam to lift his head, or give any indication that he was aware of Dean's presence. When he received nothing, he got out slowly his anxiety building.

"Sam? You okay?"

...

The smell of burning flesh clogged his nostrils. _His_ flesh. He was on fire, he could feel the skin peel away, turning black, clawing it's way up his arm. He whimpered, trying to hold as still as he possibly could so that Lucifer would not have the pleasure of hearing him wail and beg.

 _"Come on, Sammy, you're going to have to talk to me sooner or later. After all, we're going to be stuck with each other for eternity."_

Sam could hear the devil's laughter ringing in his ears. A keening sound escaped his throat and he couldn't tell if it was him, or the memory of him in the Cage.

"Sam?"

He felt a hand touch his back. The youngest Winchester's eyes snapped open.

The reaction was immediate, made off of pure instinct. Sam lurched forward, rolling over his shoulder and coming up on his feet, his arms assuming their usual fighting position, his stance one that could be used for both offense and defense. He was expecting an attack, the only times that Lucifer had even been remotely tolerable was when something beyond painful was about to occur. His burning flesh looked like child's play compare to some of Lucifer's other 'games.'

But instead of Lucifer standing there, pretending to look hurt, it was Dean. And Dean looked...scared. 'It's just a ploy,' his brain told him, 'Any minute now Lucifer will show his face. It's just a disguise.' His breathing pattern was staggered as he waited.

"Woah, man," Dean held up both hands, trying to seem as nonthreatening as possible. It was clear from his brother's wide, glazed eyes, that he had had some sort of ptsd flash from hell and that Sam wasn't all there at the moment.

"Hey, bud," Dean said, making his voice sound as calm as possible while his heart hammered in his chest, "It's me. It's Dean."

He could almost see Sam returning. His eyes slowly coming into focus, arms slowly lowering just enough so that it was noticeable.

"You're alright, Sam. You hear me?" 'Come on,' Dean begged silently, "You're alright. You got out. You're safe now. You're not in-in," his words stumbled over each other, not sure if saying the Cage would help matters or make them worse at the moment, "You're not with him anymore, okay?" When Sam still seemed slightly hesitant Dean rambled on, "I can prove it, you want me to do that? You're my pain in the ass little brother. You like girly music, you need a hair cut. You called me the first time you got drunk because you were at some party, but dad picked up. He was so mad, but then you got sick and we had to take you to the hospital," he didn't know why this particular story popped inside his head. Perhaps because that was one of the first times that Sam had gotten hurt without Dean there with him. But now that he started he found he couldn't stop himself, and it seemed Sam didn't want him to stop either as he appeared to hang on to Dean's every word...

 _"Sam should be back by now," John grumbled, disapprovingly as he glanced at the small clock between the two hotel beds._

 _"Studying probably just took longer than he expected to, you know Sam. The kid's probably so deep into his textbook that he forgot to check the time," it was a lie, but John nodded nevertheless, it had been a common enough occurrence with Sam. Dean knew full well that Sam was at a party some kid in his grade was throwing. It was the first highschool party Sammy had been invited to and he only went because of Dean's encouragement. 'It'll be fun,' Dean had promised, 'I'll cover for you, just go.' Being a normal kid had always been Sam's dream, what was more normal than sneaking out for a party?_

 _However, apparently Sam had had a little too much fun at the party. One too many drinks, and for someone as skinny as Sam was, it wasn't a shocker to find out that the kid was something of a light weight._

 _At half past eleven Dean's cellphone started ringing._

 _"It's Sam," Dean told John._

 _"Let me answer it," John demanded, in a tone that said arguing would be pointless._

 _Dean handed the device over slowly, feeling as if he was betraying Sam's trust as he did so._

 _"Sam?"_

 _"Dean is that you?" Dean could hear Sam's voice loud and clear, the idiot was clearly wasted, "Man, you're voice got deeper." Sam snickered, "You sound grumpy."_

 _"Sam, where are you?" John demanded._

 _"Wicked party," Sam seemed to be talking to someone else while on the phone. Since when did he ever refer to something as 'wicked'?_

 _"Sam!" John raised his voice, not enough to shout, but enough to ensure that Sam would focus back on him, "Where are you?"_

 _"De' I don' feel good," Sam's voice wavered now. John and Dean shared worried glances. Their guts tied into knots when Sam added, "Something's wrong."_

Dean shook his head to get the images out of his mind. He needed to focus his attention on Sam now. Sam needed him now just as much, if not more than, he'd needed him then.

"Alcohol poisoning you idiot, but you never did do anything the easy way. We had to sneak you out though, couldn't risk them finding out that they insurance cards we gave them were fake, could we? And you were still sick, but we nicked some of the good stuff when we left. Dad said to save it in case of a hunting accident but I gave you some anyway because you were in pain. And...and..." as quickly as the words had come to him they cut off.

Sam's arms dropped entirely. His eyes welled with tears. Dean was _here_ , he was here and everything would be alright now. His legs wobbled beneath his weight as the relief flooded through him.

"De-"

The smell of burning skin still hadn't left his nostrils entirely, and even though he hadn't eaten anything that morning, he could feel his stomach start to rebel. He clumsily dropped back to his knees as his dinner from the previous evening clawed its way up his throat and made a reappearance.

"Okay, Sammy," Dean crouched down and wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders while he used his other one to rub circles on his back.

Memories of being sick as kids ran through Sam's mind, spurred on by the story Dean had just told.

Whenever Dean was sick, Sam would panic. Until he got older, he had never been quite strong enough to carry his brother back to bed, or do much more than force Dean to drink fluids and eat whatever soup they happened to possess at the time. Not that Dean would let him do much more than that even when Sam was strong enough to.

But when Sam was sick? Dean always knew what to do. He was always there, ready to lend a comforting touch, or walking support, or hold a bag when he was too weak to get out of bed to puke. And he never once complained. Never once shied away.

Sam leaned into his bother when he'd finished, closing his eyes. Listening to Dean's steady heartbeat. Taking in some of his brother's warmth. He wanted to blame the tears and vomit on how tired he was, claim that he simply couldn't control his emotions at the moment, but he knew that everything that was happening, and would happen, were beyond simply skipping a few nights of rest.

What if Sam couldn't get a hold on this? What if what happened in the Cage would be forever chasing him? What if he ended up hurting Dean, thinking that his brother was an illusion? What if he failed to be able to distinguish between reality and memory? What if-

"You're okay, Sam," Dean promised, his voice cutting through the worries and silencing them for the time being.

Sam nodded into Dean's shoulder, not trusting his voice to not wobble with emotion if he spoke.

"You ready to stand? Or do you feel like something else might come up?"

Sam thought it over, "Stand."

"Okay, on three. Ready? One..Two..Three," with a grunt of effort Dean helped to get Sam vertical again. He tucked himself under Sam's shoulder to keep him like that, and wrapped his arm around Sam's waist to help balance. He wasn't sure if Sam really was coming down with something, or if his mind was just jumbled at the moment, but either way, he wasn't going to let his brother fall, "You're going to be okay, Sammy." He promised as they stumbled and slouched their way to the impala, "We're going to get through this, I promise."

Sam only nodded. Wishing he shared Dean's optimism.

He knew that whatever vision, or flashback, or whatever it was that he'd had earlier was only the beginning.

The worst was, undoubtedly, yet to come.

* * *

*Again sorry for the delay between updates. I'm not sure exactly which course of action I'd like to pursue with this story. Any feedback and thoughts would be more than helpful.

So far it's between:

1)Sam does end up falling ill and drifts between memories of the Cage and consciousness. Dean gets a glimpse of what his brother had gone through and struggles to try to make things better for his brother.

Or

2) After the first flashback, Sam's seeing more and more of the Cage when he is asleep and awake. Dean worries as Sam looses weight and slowly seems to disappear inside of himself.

Both options will have brotherly-schmop galore, and tons of hurt/comfort. **Thank you so much for reading** and if you have the time, please leave a review to tell me what you thought! Were the flashbacks confusing? Did you not like how much it switched povs or was that hard to follow?


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